


Definitely Not Concerned

by GrowlingPeanut



Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 02:45:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5358029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrowlingPeanut/pseuds/GrowlingPeanut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhys started out as nothing more than a means to an end for Fiona. He was just an extra weight to drag around, somehow managing to slow her down while simultaneously helping her. But now, with the con money gone and an even bigger prize looming on the horizon, she finds her views of the clumsy, awkward, Hyperion-worker shifting. She doesn't know when things started changing, but as the stakes get higher, she finds herself more and more worried about his chances of surviving on Pandora. So when he comes down with a fever and a stomachache on the way to pick up the Gortys upgrade, she's trying to do everything she can to make him healthy again. Not that she wants anyone to know <em>why.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Definitely Not Concerned

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm kind of implying that the "Trust Fiona" option happened at the end of Atlas Mugged. Even though Vaughn isn't paralyzed here. You can all deal with that, right? 'Kay, cool.

Fiona knew it would happen eventually. Away from the sterile air of Helios, coupled with the number of people they'd come into contact with, and the physical exertion they'd endured...it was nearly inevitable. So when she saw him curled up in the booth, bleary-eyed and wrapped in a blanket, she shouldn't have been surprised. Irritated by his weak, leisure-spoiled immune system, yes, but not surprised. And _definitely_ not concerned.

"Sasha, check the medicine cabinet."

Rhys shook his head. "I'm fine... I don't need anything. I'll—” he coughed. “I'll kick this in a few hours."

From the back of the caravan, Sasha barked out a laugh. "You look like shit, Hyperion."

"She's right," Fiona agreed. "And you'll be useless to us while you're sick." Despite the words, she couldn't stop herself as she reached across the table and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. She also couldn't bring herself to pull away, even after her hand had lingered a few seconds longer than necessary. "He's got a fever."

"I'm just bringing everything over," Sasha announced, setting a small box down on the table.

"Honestly, I'm gonna be fine. You probably don't want to waste your medicine on m....ohh...oh God."

Fiona frowned. "What's wrong?"

He moaned and shook his head.

If he wanted to do this like he was five years old, fine. "What hurts?" she asked with an exasperated sigh. She thought she'd receive a glare, if nothing else, but when he just swallowed and shut his eyes, that persistent feeling of concern only grew stronger. She was aware of Sasha's eyes on the back of her head as she leaned closer, but couldn't bring herself to care about what her sister may have thought. "Rhys, you've—" She was cut off when he suddenly dragged himself out of the booth and stumbled across the caravan to the sink. A few seconds and a minor convulsion later, and his head was _in_ the sink.

"Oh, gross." Sasha made a face.

Fiona chewed her lip. "Go get some more blankets, Sash. The sooner he gets better, the sooner we can find that upgrade." _And the sooner I can stop worrying about him._

"Is he throwing up back there?" Vaughn asked from behind the wheel, looking over his shoulder. "Rhys...? You okay, buddy?"

“ _...peachy,_ ” Rhys managed to growl before gagging again.

Fiona started sifting through the medicine box. There wasn't much to help the nausea, unfortunately, but at least she could lessen the fever a little... Maybe she could make some soup or something. Hopefully he'd be able to keep it down.

Sasha dropped an armful of blankets onto the booth. "He better not get the rest of us sick," she muttered, joining Vaughn by the wheel. “Someone should probably go up top and tell Athena not to breathe too much in here…”

“I bet she doesn’t even ever _get_ sick,” Vaughn mused. “I mean, she’s kind of…”

Fiona tuned them out, sitting down on one end of the booth. It was...somewhat unnerving to see Rhys like this. Partly because he'd been perfectly healthy a few hours before and partly because, whether or not he actually _felt_ it, he exuded confidence. So much so, that when they’d first met, she’d relished anything that managed to knock him down a few pegs. Sure, since then she'd seen weakness from him, several times, but...this was different.

He was...helpless. He couldn't talk, or even fumble, his way out now. He was down on his knees—metaphorically—feverish, hurting. The familiar spark in his eyes had dulled, and it scared her. She knew this was only a stomach bug, around for a few days at the most, but it still scared her. So far, Rhys had been unbreakable, in his own… _interesting_ way. It was....what she liked about him.

But as she watched him dry-heaving into the sink, shaky, and even more pale than usual, she realized she _didn't want_ to see him like this. She liked the normal Rhys. The healthy Rhys. The obnoxious, yet still somehow sweet Rhys. The Rhys that had tried to steal her hat and almost ended up with a broken hand because of it. The Rhys that would stare at her from across the room when he thought she couldn't tell, and then quickly pretend he hadn't been when she made eye contact. The Rhys that she had...called a _friend_.

Shuffling footsteps jolted her out of her thoughts and she looked up to see him returning. ...Sasha was right. He _did_ look like shit. Any minimal amount of color had drained from his face, his hair was matted on one side, and his eyes were even more glazed over than they had been a few minutes ago. And yet he still managed to give her a tired, lopsided smile—just a slight quirk at the corner of his lips—as he slipped back into the booth beside her.

“Thanks for trying to help,” he murmured, tucking the blanket back around his shoulders. “And...uh...sorry. About the sink.”

Fiona shrugged, opening one of the bottles she’d pulled out of the box. “It’s not like we use it to cook or anything.” She tipped a pill out onto the table in front of him. “Take this. Let me go get you some water.”

He nodded, starting to unfold the pile of blankets Sasha had left. “You...were kidding about the cooking thing, right? I mean...I’m honestly really sorry… There just wasn’t really anywhere else—”

Fiona sighed, pulling a glass out from one of the cupboards and filling it. “It’s fine, Rhys. At least you cleaned up. But...next time, maybe just open the door?”

“Yeah, I could do that...”

“Driving isn’t making it worse, is it?” Vaughn called back. “Cause...we can totally find a place to stop for a while. I know you get motion sick really easily—”

“I’m okay,” Rhys assured, cutting him off. “But if that changes, you’ll be the first to know.”

Fiona walked back to the booth and set the glass of water down on the table. “Take the pill, and drink all of that—but slowly—”

Rhys shook his head with a half-hearted laugh. “I’m not a kid, Fiona. I’ve been sick before. I know what to do. Besides, I’m not sure I should trust Pandoran medica...tion...hey. This is...Hyperion-branded.” He frowned at the pill, then at Fiona.

She shrugged. “You guys never switch up your supply-drop zones. We figure a couple bottles of pills won’t be missed every few months.”

He stared at her for a second longer before swallowing the medication and tucking his knees up to his chest. “I guess we should stop underestimating you Pandorans,” he muttered eventually, picking at something on his cybernetic arm.

“You better not tell any of your pals back on Helios about this, though,” Sasha threatened from the front.

Rhys rolled his eyes. “You’re assuming I survive long enough to make it back. With the way things have been going lately…”

The concern that Fiona had been trying to ignore flared despite her attempts to push it aside. “You’re not gonna die out here,” she reassured, crossing her arms. Rhys looked up at her with a mixed expression of curiosity and… _hope?_ She swore she could feel her heart _twitch_. “Not with us around to keep saving you, anyway.” His face fell as soon as the words left her lips, but she forced herself to go through with it. She wasn’t about to compliment him. Not out loud. Not yet.

So she just watched as he broke eye contact and pulled the blankets tighter. “And I thought you told Scooter we were your _friends_ …”

His tone was light enough to seem teasing, but years of experience had given Fiona more insight. “I never said you _weren’t_ ,” she amended, gathering the bottles on the table and returning them to the box. “But that still doesn’t mean you know how to fend for yourselves.”

“Actually,” Vaughn quipped. “We were doing fine before we met you. Rhys, tell them about what happened—”

“That...was mostly Loader Bot,” Rhys interrupted with a sigh.

“Okay...well, what about when Vasquez—”

“Also Loader Bot.”

“Even when—?”

“Just give it a rest, bro. You know she’s right.”

Fiona sat back down on the edge of the booth, watching Rhys as he huddled even deeper into the mountain of blankets. Maybe...maybe she should have told him he’d held his own so far. That he was learning. That he had good ideas...occasionally. He already felt terrible, and she was sure her attitude wasn’t helping—

“I must look really bad, huh? You never stare at me this much.”

“Um…” she fished for words while her brain caught up with what he’d just said. “I just…” God, how long _had_ she been staring at him? “I was going to ask you if you were hungry. For anything.” She shifted, starting to stand up again. “We might have some—” Fingers around her arm stole any remaining air out of her lungs.

“Don’t...you don’t have to go anywhere—or...get up. I’m...not hungry.”

His hand was cold, but she forced herself to stay relaxed, and offered him a small smile. “Probably better anyway, right? No use eating something that’ll just come back up later.”

“Yeah.” There were a few seconds of silence until Rhys finally let go of her arm. “I’m just...gonna try to sleep for a little bit. Maybe I’ll feel better when I wake up.” He tugged off the topmost blanket and mashed it into a makeshift pillow, setting it down on the seat next to Fiona’s legs. “And _then_ you can cook for me.”

Fiona couldn’t have replied if she’d wanted to. The chilly pressure from his fingers still lingered on her arm and she found herself fighting a blush as he laid down beside her. He could have put the pillow on the other side, she noted. But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d chosen to keep it only inches away from her thighs. Any closer and he’d be sleeping with his head in her lap. Was she more likely to end up catching whatever he had? Probably. Was it worth it? Definitely. She smiled to herself. He was going to be fine.


End file.
